Soliloquy Symphony
by Vestergaard
Summary: When planning perfection, the end result is usually unexpected. Simple becomes difficult, and then you begin to compare yourself with the White on Black Child... A series of vignettes about Sephiroth. Originality is key.
1. Movement: JENOVA

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Soliloquy Symphony

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by Great Materia Hunter Yuffie

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1st Movement: JENOVA

We knew him in the womb.

You look disgusted, for some stupid and human reason. Perhaps you do not comprehend.

We were with him when he lay sleeping, dormant and growing inside his flawed mother. He was strong even then. Even before we changed him.

We remember reading his genetic coding, perusing it like a bad novel, reading the story of his life before he would live it. Brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, fairly short, freckles, bad eyesight, cist on his neck, susceptible to brain cancer, heart disease, (this, then was the _true_ story of Sephiroth!) and completely bland in every way but one.

The string of coding remarking on his intelligence was long and beautiful, almost glowing with strange power.

The JENOVA cells are all special, separate and unique. We kill, we spread, we join together, then we travel on, more powerful than before. To react, infiltrate, and attack at a cellular level, we are sentient at a cellular level. Every part of us has a plan, separate dreams and desires, separate motivations.

One of us paused, the others already attacking the infant, killing it and absorbing it. It paused, thinking, then called a question.

The question had no words, rather it was a culmination of different thoughts, thousands, millions, with a question mark stamped on the end.

We needed a child. We were scattered across the world and could not join together again without help. We had had children before, but not for millions of years. Wordlessly, thoughts raced back and forth like lightning, like synapses firing, and a call to action was raised.

We would make this our child. He was a sacrifice on an altar; we knew the sire injected us into the child willingly, if not in total comprehension (not that it truly would have stopped us, but it is so much easier to change an infant already growing in the womb), so we took him.

And we changed him.

Gone were the imperfections, the cancers, the problems, the pigmentations (our children are white-on-snow, always) the weaknesses. We re-wrote him to our will and pleasure, creating perfection once again. We erased coding, inserted new, using the weak matter already there to form a Perfect Child. We inserted ourselves into the coding, becoming part of him forever. We could speak to him, direct him, control him. We changed his story. Strength, power, magic, intelligence, memory, beautiful, white-on-snow.

He was perfect, our child.

But his weak mother...while the embryo was the most important one in the history of the backward Planet, the mother had no significance at all.

So we ate _her_ instead.

Slowly, so the child could be born, of course. We change life how we wish. We make beauty. We make evil. We changed her through the placenta, reaching her and corrupting her coding, taking her energy.

The child was born and the human woman died, but we kept her alive.

We do not give up our children, any of them, so easily to death.

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AN: Real short, sorry. Thanks for reading. This is an on-goingfic, with about 30 chaptersfull of one-shot Sephirothy goodness. I'll update this once a day until it is done. Criticism's fine, but you don't have to review if you don't want to. 


	2. Movement: Assistant

Soliloquy Symphony

By Great Materia Hunter Yuffie

Movement 2: Assistant

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"I need another Mako injection."

"How much…?"

"Make if 30 mL."

"Isn't…that a little much?

"Do what she says."

The assistant sighed and prepared the needle. He tried not to look at the strange couple, but when he turned back to them, thick green liquid glowing in his hands, he saw them, and how they looked at each other without eye contact, and unconsciously compared her beauty with his plainness.

She was sitting on a bench with her brown hair cascading in a haze over her face. Hojo stood over her, hands clasped behind his back, but he was not looking at her face; his eyes were focused on the wall, or her dress, or out into space, meditatively.

The assistant handed Lucrecia the bloated hypodermic and saw her grim expression falter when she touched it.

"What's wrong?" asked Hojo, finally glancing at her face.

She shook her head.

"I'll do it. I said I would do it if you needed me to." His voice was slightly irritated, slightly frustrated.

She shook her head again. "No, it's…it's alright. I'll do it."

Lucrecia grasped the syringe and pressed the needle to the inside of her elbow, hesitating.

"You should let me do it," said Hojo, but by his defeatist tone he expected her to refuse as she refused every time.

"It's alright. I want to do it. It hurts more when…someone else does it."

She had paused and the assistant heard the unspoken meaning. _It hurts more…when you do it._

Lucrecia broke skin and squeezed, the glowing Mako sucked out of the tube and into her arm. She gasped, curling into a partial fetal position in the chair.

Hojo jerked, his hand twitched, but reacted no more than that. The assistant saw a strange smile form on his face, and behind his thick glasses his eyes were bright.

Lucrecia breathed out for long moments, then, eyes tightly shut, she placed the syringe on a counter. The same smile was on her face. It was strange there, like it was something she had to learn to do.

She grasped her distended pregnant stomach and her smile faded slightly. "I know what's happening," she said, looking at the ground. "You can't hide it from me. I have access to the reports, and I'm not stupid."

The assistant busied himself with cleaning up, trying to ignore that flash of shock that he saw on the professor's face.

"And…what is it that is happening?" Hojo's voice had no inflection.

"I'm dying, of course." And brown hair closed like a curtain, her head bowed.

Hojo and the shocked assistant said nothing.

"I'm not strong enough for this. I'm only a pregnant _woman_." There was a strange emphasis on woman that the assistant did not understand, but he saw Hojo shift slightly in response. She continued in that hoarse whisper, "I can feel it…something…inside me. It's draining me. I'm getting weaker by the day. I don't know if I can last long enough…"

"You will," Hojo said, in that blank voice.

That strange smile was back on her face, and she lifted her face to look at the wall beside Hojo. "Yes, you are right. This is the most important scientific study…ever undergone. I am…willing to do my part. Sometimes, sacrifice is unavoidable."

The assistant jerked a bottle of Mako and it almost crashed before he caught it deftly. _What kind of an attitude is that? How could any study be worth a human life? _

He knew better than to speak up. He bowed his head over the bottle, gripping it too tightly. If he spoke against them, against ShinRa, his life would be snuffed out. _If I just forget about it…then it'll be okay. It's her decision. She has the choice to stop…_

Then, he realized that that was not the case. She was already far into her third trimester. It was too late for an abortion to save her life. She had no choice but to deliver the child. But what had she meant, something was_ draining_ her?

"I'm glad…" she said, "That I will die completing a task like this. Many people die from old age, but I will die actually accomplishing something." She sounded like she meant it, but the assistant felt bile rise in his throat from her appalling reasoning.

Hojo nodded. "If that is the case, then you are correct. But I believe that you will feel better when the operation is over. There is a great chance that we will be completely successful."

She nodded too, but not enthusiastically. She obviously did not believe him. "When will the Cesarean be?"

"In five weeks."

She nodded absently, rubbing her stomach. There was something in her eyes, a knowledge that bolstered her without any comfort.

The assistant turned back to throw the syringe away, shrinking away from the cold feel of it.

_No experiment is worth a human life…_

_Only five more weeks left to live…_

No wonder they could not look at each other.

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A.N. I always wanted to do something that put more blame on Lucrecia than Hojo. Also, I don't think she would have been stupid enough not to find out what was going on. Review if you want. 


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